Drizzt in MiddleEarth
by sandwraith
Summary: Drizzt escapes the Underdark. But enters where? Certainly not the surface of Faerun, but the Realm of MiddleEarth! updated...
1. Chapter 1

FR/LotR

Drizzt in Middle-Earth

Chapter I

A New World

The drow shielded his sensitive eyes from the scorching rays of light emitted from the blazing ball of fire in the sky up above. The drow, not accustomed to the surface, began his descent down the rocky spur jotting out just above the beginning of a great waterfall.

The drow, his attention fully consumed by just trying not to be blinded, didn't fully take in the scope of his surroundings so it came as quite a surprise when he reached an outcrop making a perfect look-out point that he was surrounded by blissful blue water. The surprise only expanded into shock when he found himself staring into the forming mouth of the biggest waterfall he'd ever seen in his life. He found himself gazing down a drop of surely a hundred meters of falling water then coming splashing down on the razor-sharp rocks below.

He nearly lost his foothold gazing in amazement at the natural wonder. He quickly found it though and avertedly broke his gaze and started exploring the island, for it was an island he knew, instead.

He found the land mass scarce of both flora and fauna, having only seen small clusters of trees densely packed together in different positions varying of the angle of the spur.

For the island was really just a sharp rock, like an arrow-head, protruding from the waterbed like a plant springing to life. Where the few trees didn't grow it was just bare, weathered rock slanting at a 45° angle. The drow found no passages or paths leading anywhere, and the clearly untouched vegetation, making it very hard to make progress at all and at the same time indicating that no creature has ever set foot here. Hoping that from the high vantage point at the very top of the peak he could he locate himself and maybe find a way out of here, started slowly the difficult climb.

The very agile creature slowly made his way to the peak, and had he not been so agile he would have surely fallen to his death. The drow took a break just before the last climb of the nearly 180° steep wall of rock to the top; he knew he was going to need it.

And surely this last climb took all his energy and agile expertise, but finally he could stand atop the crest of the island as the elf that conquered this piece of devilish peak. As the drow surveyed the surroundings he felt his heart sink and his jaw drop at the same time.

At a thousand meters in the sky he looked at numerous miles of land in each of the cardinal points. And what a view, a lake spread out before his eyes to the north, he saw bare hilly fields in the west, in the south he could follow the great river that ran from the falls along a ridgeline and then turning behind the mountains, out of view. As he gazed to the east his eyebrows rose as he saw a ridgeline of black mountains and blood-red glow behind them. _What in the world? _he thought but then realized that this was not his world. When he looked harder, focusing his drow eyes, he thought he could discern a city, built on the very river that emitted from the very place he was standing on. Trying very hard to see better he could just make out that the river split the city into two before the dark clouds rolled over and obstructed his view. He knew it was getting late and by the looks of the clouds it wasn't going to be a calm night. The drow knew he'd better start searching for a place for him to spend the night before the clouds rolled in. He had just found a dark and sheltered opening in the cracks of the rocks by time the rain poured down.

At the same time eight companions docked on the western side of the lake and took up refuge.


	2. Chapter 2

Drizzt in Middle-Earth

Chapter Two

Battled Legolas

The drow from Menzoberranzan awoke some time before the eight companions of the Ring. First he had a hard time remembering where he was, but it didn't take too long before it all came flooding back to him; the escape from the Underdark, the long climb to the surface, and the island peak on which he now stood on.

He had found a small cleared path leading down to the waterside, probably made by wolves some considerable time before. The drow found the depth of the waters not that substantial, which allowed him to cross over to the mainland, the water rising only barely to his hips. As he disembarked onto the shore he did a quick scan and immediately saw the little encampment at the lakeside, not a stone throw from his position.

The ever-alert drow brought his hands to his pommels of his scimitars, and slowly approached for a closer inspection. He had not taken five steps until he heard a low, almost whispering and yet firm, voice behind him to his left.

"Stand still, black elf!" The drow froze immediately and slowly turned left to face the source of the voice. Before him stood a blond-haired surface elf with an arrow trained right at his chest.

Slowly the drow moved his hands from his blades as the wary eye of the elf followed every movement. He quickly calculated the distance and knew he was helpless with that space between them and he knew he couldn't possibly hope to evade an arrow released from that distance. In both cases the distance was his enemy, which the cunning surface elf had applied to his advantage. He had to take the fight to close quarters if he was hoping to come out alive. He now saw the surface elf was unsure of what to do next, probably he had killed all his enemies with that bow and now when he had a prisoner he was hesitant.

"Turn around and start walking!" the elf commanded as he gestured with his bow to emphasize the point. He was probably going to force him into the encampment, the drow knew, where everyone was to be roused and he was going to be badly outnumbered. He knew he couldn't let that happen. When the two where barely halfway the drow reached inside his innate abilities and summoned an impenetrable globe of darkness right on top of the two of them. Even as he conjured the black globe he frantically dived to the left as he felt an arrow sizzle in the air, and he felt a sharp shrill of pain at his right shoulder as the arrow grazed past.

He was already in balance and went into the globe of darkness with a spin, drawing his scimitars as he went, high and low, and would have taken the surface elf's knees and head had the smart creature dived back into the daylight, neatly escaping a blade at his throat.

The surface elf knew his bow would be useless in close combat with this foe against him, so he let the elven bow slide to the ground as he brought his hands back clasping the hilts of his daggers and with a twist brought them twirling in defense in front of him as the drow had already mounted an attack with his deadly blades.

Legolas of the Woodland Realm quickly knew he wouldn't stand a chance against this foe in swordplay. Even now he was hard pressed, and he was moving his daggers with all the speed he could summon in a fast defense of twirling outlines of daggers yet his dark elf enemy seemed to execute a lot less of energy and yet knowing the elf's every move before it happened. Legolas felt he was fighting a bad dream, so fast did those deadly scimitars come always keeping him taking small steps back to even hold any defense.

Even when attacking Legolas couldn't find any holes in the foe's defense, and he knew he soon had to give up or die. Unless he could wake Aragorn or Boromir in some way, but he never found a pause for a scream of help; the attacking blades had to hold all his focus even to block them.

After awhile Legolas intercepted a stray thrust which had loosely been aimed at his belly and parried the attack nimbly which for the only time since he fought him a breach opened up in the dark elf's defenses which allowed Legolas a devastating counter. But masterfully did those scimitars pick off each dagger thrust- one, two, three, and suddenly it was Legolas that was unbalanced that allowed the cunning drow to counter his counter. Suddenly it all came to Legolas how simple the enemy's plan had been, so simple which had made him overlook it. The dark elf had set him up with a lazy thrust which the now-foolish surface elf had hooked on. The opening in Legolas defenses was big enough; the drow leaped in offering a devastating double-thrust low. Somehow the surface elf's daggers fell in the only, possible defense; double-cross down. And the two stood transfixed, looking at each other through the set of blades. Then the surface elf's feet snapped up between the cross of daggers and lashed out at the abdomen of the enemy. The drow was stunned; this elf was using the routine he had found in Menzoberranzan. But of this the surface elf didn't know and he was as stunned as the drow before as the enemy somehow countered that which his hilts thrust down interlocking his foot. And with a twist and a turn he laid Legolas low, blood trickling down from his foot.

Now the companions awoke and watched terrified as the stranger moved his blade to their fallen friend's throat. With a roar Gimli charged followed by Aragorn, somehow Boromir was missing along with Frodo. Yet Aragorn thought not much of it, he was too occupied watching the fallen Legolas.

The drow startled as he saw the three humanoids charging him, sword and axe in hand.

"I'm not your enemy, elf." was the only thing he said the surface elf as he managed a quick deflection of the dwarf's axe then bolted away into the forest.

Gimli panted as he met up with the now standing Legolas.

"What... who... Who was that?"


	3. Chapter 3

Drizzt in Middle-Earth

Chapter Three

The ranger from the North and his surface elf friend, Legolas, did not have so much a trouble following the "black" elf's tracks. That did not surprise them.

What did surprise them was the pace that the black one was keeping; but they stubbornly kept up the dogged pursuit in hope to find some answers.

"I'm not your enemy", Legolas repeated that reply over and over in his mind. What did it mean? Everyone knew, or knew of, the dark cousins of his race and their evil ways.

They were just about to consider returning to their friends, they must have kept up the hunt for some time, when they broke free from the green undergrowth and entered a small clearing, the trees tighter than ever. Their senses tuned up to maximum, they tensed in unison as they saw a flash of black in the corner of their eyes, immediately disappearing into the green lush.

Skilled as they were they instantly turned in the direction of this new threat, hands on their weapons, when two curved blades gently pressed into each respective back, rendering any defense, or attack, useless.

All of three of them stood there for some seconds, seeming hours to the two companions, in an awkward silence.

Then the horn of Gondor blew. Aragorn spun in the air, drawing both his sword and knife in one fluid motion and would have decapitated the drow was it not for his quick reflexes. The black elf went into his own defensive spin, pulling his green cloak around with him in a wide arc, catching the outstretched knife in a tear and pulling it from Aragorn's hand and the cloak blinding him at the same time.

Legolas, having opted for the more secure route, diving away from the enemy instead at it, launched himself into the air then, coming in fast behind and above the seemingly unknowing and occupied drow. But a scimitar shot up into the air, devilishly fast, catching the surface elf off-guard and intercepting both of Legolas dual daggers; batting them harmlessly aside. Then the expert black elf lashed out with his leg, coming right in between the surface elf's defenses, connecting solidly with his sole squarely on Legolas face still in midair.

Legolas fell hard on the rocky ground and gratefully slipped into unconsciousness, blood seeping from his battered nose and draping the green moss in contrasting red.

Aragorn had at that time managed to get himself untangled from that darned green cloak and smiled wide when he saw the enemy with his back to him, the enemy's eyes casually on the downed Legolas. The ranger from the North only had the time to raise his sword in attack before he felt like he had run right into a firm buttress- backwards. For that was what it felt like when the six-hundred pound Guenhwyvar came running headfirst into you.

Aragorn fell on his behind, unarmed and completely defenseless. His head hanging, he merely sensed the approaching enemy and thought himself dead when an unexpected ebony hand was shoved into his face. In took a minute for Aragorn to understand that the hand was to help him up standing and after a split-second of consideration he grasped it.

Dazed as he was, he just stared dumbfounded on the ebony face as it spoke to him: "I am Drizzt Do'Urden, no enemy of yours."


	4. Chapter 4

Drizzt in Middle-Earth

Chapter Four

"Uruk-Hai"

The ranger of the North stood a few inches taller than the dark elf he was facing in the clearing. Two other forms lay on the ground beside them, one just awakening from his "artificial" sleep. The other, far bigger and blacker, had just casually dropped to the ground nearby, giving a non-threatening demeanor but with eyes intently studying the scene.

Aragorn also studied the dark face before him, searching for any wicked or mocking face-expressions but only found a pure, honest smile in return.

"Drizzit?" he asked.

The drow's smile grew wider as he acknowledged that as an acceptance of his form.

"Drizzt" the drow corrected politely. Aragorn could just nod at that, not attempting to insult the elf any further.

The groan from Legolas made them aware of the reality of the meet and set upon the ranger a grim feature in his face. He helped Legolas up standing, the elf giving Drizzt an awkward look. The drow immediately turned his face down to the ground, suddenly embarrassed.

The surface elf walked over to his dark kinsman to hesitantly, for he was a bit embarrassed too, but friendly grasp Drizzt's arm in agreement to Aragorn's obvious acknowledgement.

The horn of Gondor woke all four of them from their bewilderment. Aragorn's face contours grew almost as dark as Drizzt's when he heard the short, firm blow.

He threw a quick glance Drizzt's way but knew he couldn't afford any additional inquiries of fealty and so on; he just had to trust the dark elf for the time being. The future would certainly answer his questions, as well as Drizzt's actions in the skirmish that the shrewd ranger knew to befall them.

Their pace was quick; all four of them swift when it came to running, but none could match the great leaps Guenhwyvar took, soon outrunning them, following the horn.

It did not take long for the three other fighters, however, to come upon the scene that took place below. Drizzt saw a human sorely pressed by at least a dozen of orcs, his brutal, nearly wild, slashing of his sword saving him, cutting down the evil orcs like fodder.

To Aragorn and Legolas, though, they saw their friend and companion in dire help.

And then the first arrow-bolt struck Boromir fully in the chest, but to the amazement of them all he continued his fight with the band of orcs. But, inevitably, that only drew out on the process, as they all knew that Boromir was indeed doomed as the second bolt thumped into his already torn body.

Legolas, Aragorn and Drizzt Do'Urden stood all powerless on that bluff watching it all through pained eyes. The orc band ran past the dying man, apparently leaving him to the archer who seemed to be their leader, even as a third arrow punched into Boromir's stomach.

Suddenly the two of them were alone, the big orc archer coming down from his firing position and the stooping man with three arrows sticking out of his torso like some disgusting ornament.

That was when the two elves and human went into action, Legolas reaching for his quiver, Aragorn running straight for his battered, dying friend and Drizzt flanking him closely.

Drizzt, having never seen an orc in battle, just learned about them in Melee-Magthere, did not leap head first into battle as his newfound friend did just as he would have caught another, surely final, arrow.

The fighting that ensued between Aragorn and the large orc was fierce and vicious, both scoring minor hits until the sheer force of the larger creature had the ranger backing but not before he'd pierced his Elven knife through the orc's thigh.

For a minute Aragorn thought he had the enemy crippled but the inexorable orc just pulled it out and launched it end-over-end at the quite shocked Aragorn, who just managed to get his sword aligned; sending the knife bouncing harmlessly aside.

Then the orc launched another missile, this time his shield, catching the ranger at the throat and nailing him to a tree.

The drow went into action then, coming to the aid of Aragorn, slapping one of his sharp scimitars on the outstretched orc arm giving the ranger just enough time to get away from, and ducking under the shield, the heavy blow hitting only bark where the ranger had just been.

The orc turned to this new threat but Aragorn, wanted none of that, commenced a fast flurry of sword thrusts and deft turns, the large orc barely managing to block half of them.

The angered, nearly reckless, attack paid off when Aragorn got his blade under the peculiar defense of the orc's heavy sword, severing his right arm just under the shoulder. Then the ranger followed up with a devastating thrust penetrating the orc's stomach. But ever the inexorable, the orc casually grabbed the sword, driving it deeper into the wound, daring the ranger to come closer. Aragorn, not missing a beat, just as casually pulled the sword free of orc entrails and brought it up in a neat spin before cleanly lopping off the head of the quite dead orc.

As Aragorn ran to his dying human companion, a dwarf with a bloodied axe walked up to Drizzt with Legolas not far behind. The surface elf moved cautiously between the dwarf and drow, not exactly sure of Drizzt allegiances or of the dwarf's understanding in Drizzt- but the dwarf had seen Drizzt's actions during the fight.

"Ye should've been with us in them caves before, ye black one"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any character or location in this story.

Drizzt in Middle-Earth

Chapter V

Drizzt Do'Urden drew his thick forest cloak tighter around himself as the biting wind mixed with the pouring rain.

He lowered his cowl as he heard nearing footsteps on the stone parapet, but relaxed visibly when he realized it was Aragorn. The same man he had been fighting in the woods of Emyn Muíl some weeks ago. But that enmity had grown over the past weeks into something that more resembled friendship.

Aragorn sighed as he stared into the endless gathering mass of orcs that had assembled outside the high walls of Helm's Deep. Drizzt turned his head to look upon his new-found friend.

"Have you ever faced that many enemies before?" Drizzt had to ask because he found himself quite shaken by the number of orcs amassed a stone throw away. Aragorn snorted almost as if to himself.

"Have one ever? This must be the largest army to walk Middle-Earth since Sauron's glory days." Aragorn paused as he read Drizzt's nonplussed face, who did not know anything about Middle-Earth's history except what he picked up once in awhile from Théoden's cursing mouth and Legolas hushed explanations.

"No, I have never faced this large a force before, my dear dark –" Aragorn was interrupted by Théoden who made one of his routine walks around the parapet. Behind him Legolas came with a bow in hand.

"It's time" was all Theoden said as he continued toward Gamling on the far side. Legolas, however, stopped and handed the bow over to Drizzt, who in turn inspected it doubtfully.

"I know you do not use the bow but we need every strong arm if we are to hold any sort of defense against Saruman's Uruk-Hai."

Drizzt could very well understand that sentiment and accepted the bow as another weapon in his arsenal. Aragorn patted his shoulder carefully, as careful as everyone seemed to be when they touched or were near Drizzt except a drunken Gimli.

"I believe you know how to use a bow, as you seem to know how to use every weapon I've thrown at you. You must have learnt them before when you… from where you eh – were originally from." Aragorn nearly coughed up the words and Drizzt would have smiled if he had not thought about his father. The image of his father dying always popped up in his mind when someone spoke of his native land.

Drizzt was brutally roused from his thoughts as Gamling nearly roared the order to man the battlements. Drizzt gripped his bow and gave it one or two testing pulls.

Helm Deep's entire garrison manned the walls, everyone clasping a bow, even the elves that had only just arrived loaded their more beautiful crafted bows.

The orcs down on the ground had started roaring and grunting, apparently sensing that the oncoming slaughter was nearing its start.

Suddenly all men and elf turned quiet in anticipation, the tension so dense that you could almost reach out and touch it.

"Show no mercy, for you shall receive none. Load your bows." Aragorn was close to whispering but sounded almost loud to all ears. Men and elf reached down, as one, to grip their arrows and nock them to the string. Drizzt, having not used a bow since his early days at Melee-Magthere, felt his forearms ache sharply.

"Fire at my order only!" _Twang._ Just as Aragorn had shouted the order an arrow shot out from somewhere on the parapet and found the neck of an unsuspecting orc. Everything went quiet for a second before a deafening roar went out from the massive crowd of orcs.

The first wave of creatures came sprinting toward the walls, the sound of moving hundreds unnerving more than a few among the defenders.

Aragorn gave the order to fire and the first volley hit the oncoming beasts, felling many. Drizzt watched satisfied as his arrow struck its mark, the arrow burrowing itself in the orc's sturdy chest. Drizzt immediately reloaded his bow and let fly to see the projectile again fell an enemy.

Every attack was beaten back again and again by the tedious volleys. That was when the first ladder rose up from the throng of beasts and attached itself to the parapet, carrying numerous iron-clad brutes. The ladder was coming in to the left of Drizzt who gladly gave up the bow for his preferred scimitars.

Legolas did also notice the ladder but unlike the drow he angled his bow sideways so he had a clear shot at the orcs, who had no sort of defense whatsoever to Legolas deadly arrows. Of course not all orcs on the ladder was killed by Legolas bow but he smiled when he saw that the ones who survived were warmly greeted by the drow's blurry blades.

Drizzt ducked under a sluggish swing and struck the orc in the abdomen in rapid succession with his scimitars, spilling out black fluids that stained the ground. Drizzt turned to the ladder where more of the orcs were slipping onto the parapet, the sheer size of their body defeating most of their human attackers. The drow realized he was desperately needed and so he threw himself into a seemingly reckless spin, that seemed to be of more danger to his fellow humans but no human was harmed or even touched by the spinning blades. The orcs, however, were slaughtered by the dozen, or so it seemed to a nearby Aragorn.

Drizzt evaded easily a slow spear-thrust from a short, compact orc who clumsily stumbled over a fallen body at the same time. Drizzt executed a perfect school example of a parry, as if he was lecturing a class of students watching nearby, turning the spear up and about a hundred and eighty degrees so that the tip was angled right back at the stumbling brute. The brute stumbled head over heels into the sharp spear tip; impaling himself by a spear he had thrust to begin with. It looked quite strange seeing the slumped orc with a spear protruding from his chest and the orc's hand still grasped tightly around the shaft, as if the creature had taken its own life.

Suddenly Drizzt felt the ground shake and his instincts told him to run, and as he did a giant explosion tore out a considerably part of the wall, launching huge rocks into the air. Drizzt thought he heard the rush of water before he felt his feet slip on something fluid and he lost his footing, falling into torrent of water. The drow glimpsed a large, brutish foot through all the blur of cool water, standing two feet away, before he hit something solid and lost consciousness.


End file.
